Take me to your Kingdom and Dance with me on Red Satin
by An-Ageless-Queen-In-Blue
Summary: A collection of klaroline oneshots/drabbles that I have posted on tumblr, will be mostly AU situations. Rated M for sometimes smutty situations ;)
1. Unheard Tales and Broken Wings

**AN: Okay so this was the first drabble I did on tumblr a while back, It's AU humanverse klaroline set in the 15th century, I shall post the second drabble straight away for those of you who may have already read this one :) **

* * *

During the day he was her most trusted advisor, a confidant, a fighter, a leader of armies, a hunter of prey and most importantly a loyal subject to his Queen.

But when night swept through the kingdom and the torches were extinguished he became her prey, her sharp teeth eating away his heart. He was her lover, her steady beat, her unwavering strength and a slave to his unforgiving Queen.

She could be cruel and stoic; it was a trait that came with her title, a ruler, a royal, a protector of her kingdom. It came first to her, this place, and her people. While some called her the Ice Queen others cheered for their Saviour who worked hard to maintain the balance.

It was at night when he would see it, the tiredness and the wary lines on her forehead from a troubling day as she invited him into her bath, how his soft touch on her shoulders, massaging the supple wet skin would soothe her, the sweet sigh of relief as his hand disappeared under the deep sheath of water and found its place hot between her thighs, kneading the throbbing nub.

She found her solace in him, and he let her, she was the bearer of his heart and her touch was his home. Even when morning came and she would throw him out her chambers with a wicked laugh and a cruel dismissal, he knew that she needed him as much as he needed her.

It was at a festivity like this one where he would watch her and adore her as she weaved and entertained her court, playing them all like a violin, pulling their strings until they gave into her demands, he knew all her tricks for she had perfected them on him.

He would watch her in that tight red gown that clung to her body, he knew why she wore it; she did it because it drove him crazy. He hated the way every vile man's eye set upon her in lust, analysing the way her hips curved, how her long hair would push back when she laughed exposing her creamy neck, and the way her plump breasts would rise in breathlessness from spinning and twirling at the music around her.

It made him simmer with jealousy and that's exactly what she wanted…and as always he fell too willingly a piece on her chessboard.

"Yes while dealings with France have been sour of late I must admit I…" she trailed off as she heard a manly throat clear behind her, knowing exactly who it was without having to even lay eyes upon him.

"Ah Niklaus" she beamed.

"Your Majesty" he bowed in return.

Her smile towards his presence was cunning and one of knowing; she had him right where she wanted him.

"Please come meet my new friend the Ambassador Henry Duarte of Spain" she gestured to the old, dark haired man beside her.

"Sir Niklaus Mikaelson ambassador, but please call me Klaus" he replied unwillingly shaking the man's hand, his birth name was reserved for his queen's lips and hers alone; to hear it pass from another's would be a cruel fate indeed.

"Niklaus is the commander of my army and has been my most trusted advisor for many years now" her words were spoken in the highest of praises.

"Oh well then perhaps you can convince her majesty the Queen Caroline to consider an alliance with Spain"

"and what would be the terms" he asked sourly already knowing the answer.

"Why a marriage of course, King Ferdinand is looking for a new bride"

"Alas I am not looking for a new husband ambassador" the queen replied curtly.

He knew the reason she wanted him here now, she hated the prospect of another marriage; it was fair to say her last was not a happy one and she refused to be bent to a mans will ever again; she was a Queen in her own right and she would rule as one far away from sadistic nature. It was the reason she would not open her heart him, the reason she ruled setting aside her emotions and the reason he would never get the one thing he truly ever wanted.

"I beg pardon your majesty but you are far too young to be a widower for the rest of your life"

He saw the way the anger clouded her face, he knew all her tells, the squint of her eye, the scrunch of her nose and the flush of her cheeks. He jumped in before a foolish mistake was made.

"Our Queen is the heart and soul of this kingdom ambassador and she rules with an iron fist that would make most Kings tremble; so with all due respect to your own King she has no use for another husband." He finalised.

She turned to him and gave a rare smile at his kind and honest words, one that he's only been witness too on a handful of occasions. He communicates back to her silently that he will always be there to stop her when it's called for, to push her when she needs to go that extra mile, to save her when she's in need saving and show her love in the moments she feels alone.

His presence is steadfast as is his heart when it comes to her. This is a fact that will never change, if there is one thing he is sure of in life it is this.

"Thank you ambassador for your insight though it is no longer needed I'm afraid, I do hope you enjoy the rest of your evening though" she bowed her head in a show of respect before walking by him proudly, her golden crown high on her head.

The silenced man watched the fierce Queen leave the room, her subjects parting like the red sea as her brave knight followed after her with uninhibited desire in his gaze.

Indeed she did not need a King; anyone who stood beside her would look all too inferior compared.

* * *

"Ahh…Niklaus" she moaned and dropped from her above position onto to his heaving sweaty chest, coming down from her high.

"Well that was…..vigorous" he panted wrapping his arms around her equally glistening form.

They both laughed at his words as he failed to find a better term in his blissful state.

"Well you certainly kept up" she teased him, and then broke into a fit of giggles as he pinched at her waist rolling her over and punishing her for the taunt.

"I think I did more than that my lovely Caroline" he leaned his hands on the warm furs beneath them smirking down at her.

"Or are you forgetting how you whimpered my name earlier searching for relief as I pleasured you with nothing but my mouth?" his words were full of untamed lust and he felt himself growing hard again, pressing himself into her making them both moan.

She hasn't forgot, her gown hiked up too her hips and his head between her legs as his tongue drove deep inside her; making her cry out in want yanking at his short hair.

"Yes you were being very persistent so I decided to take things into my own hands" she breathed heavily, grabbing onto his shoulders tight, her nails digging into the skin as he grinded his hips against her wet core; adding to her frustration.

"Ah yes you do so love dominating over me don't you my Queen?" he used one of his hands to cup her breast before lowering his mouth and taking the rosy bud between his lips.

"Mmm" she sighed "It is a favourite of mine I must confess"

She cried out in the perfect mix of pleasure and pain as he bit down on her nipple making her grip his head between her hands keeping him there. She could practically feel the sly grin growing on his face.

His lips moved to give the other breast the same attention while his free hand moved around her back pulling her even closer to him so they could be moulded together in their passion.

His hips were grinding against hers, making it almost unbearable for both, feeling their lower bodies throb against each other in rhythm.

"My Niklaus" she whimpered "Take me"

He shuddered at her words, knowing what she wanted, lifting himself so she could roll over onto her stomach and perch onto her hands and knees.

She waited for him to possess her fully in the way she possessed him; they both loved it so. He loved that she trusted him, that she found her own pleasure in giving him control; it was her pleasure, her want that triggered his own into combustion.

She loved to feel what it was like to belong to someone, someone who loved and cared for her in the way he did even if she would never admit it. The way the worked as partners and as equals on nights like these spoke louder than words ever could.

He stared down at her glorious body, running a hand down the smooth skin of her long back Goosebumps following in his touch.

"Niklaus please" she begged, in a way a Queen never should, but tonight she was no queen she was a woman wanting to be worshipped by a man who loved her as no other possibly could.

He listened to her pleas, placing both his hands on her hips and pushing himself into her wet heat, they both let out a sigh of content as their bodies joined.

He began thrusting in and out her slowly and she gave a moan of encouragement pushing her hips back, meeting his movements.

"Caroline" her murmured at her sly movement, getting a tighter grip on her backside he tossed his head back at the sensation.

"Ohhh Niklaus…harder" she gripped the furs, her eyes closing trying to find relief.

He conceded to her command, thrusting against her, all to be heard was there sweaty skins slapping against each other fast and their unbridled moans echoing off the walls of her chambers.

"God…Caroline" he growled as she tilted her hips finding a new angle.

He leaned over her, covering her back and placing his hands on either side of hers to support him while he began to suck and lap at her neck, while still driving his shaft in and out her, faster and faster.

"I'm almost there, don't stop" she said breathlessly trying to catch and grasp at the pleasure surrounding her, pelting her body, making her nipples hard and her legs shaky.

"Ahhh….Yes…"

Her orgasm finally hit her; she felt utter euphoria and cried out in bliss at her release.

As he felt her walls spasm around his member; he couldn't hold back any longer and came inside of her groaning his Queen's name over and over in absolute relief.

Catching himself from falling on top her he pulled himself out of her and they both whimpered at the loss of the full sensation. He then dropped beside her on the fur covers so he wouldn't crush her; both were panting and breathing desperately; looks of complete satisfaction etched upon their faces.

She turned around and threw her naked glistening body over his, her arm thrown across his chest and her legs rubbing with his own. He smiled at her warmth curling one of his hands in her hair while the other rested on her back. They both lay there composing themselves in a comfortable silence while the fire crackled around them and drew shadows on their bare bodies.

It was times like these when everything was okay, where they laughed and made love through the night not stopping until their bodies could no longer take it.

It was times like these he could delude himself into believing that she belonged to him and he to her; instead of belonging to her people to her kingdom.

It was times like these where she opened herself up to him completely that he could see the young girl underneath the crown and the facade who still wanted to be loved and adored by someone who would take care of her and treasure her in the way she deserved.

It was times like these where he felt like her counterpart and not just a lover, or a loyal subject, or a fighter, or a hunter, but a man, just a man in love with a woman; just her Niklaus.

"I'm tired" she laughed gently, breaking their silence and his deep thoughts.

"Then go to sleep my Queen" he replied and breathed into her hair "I shall watch over you"

"Mmm" she hummed pleased with his response "goodnight Niklaus"

"Good night Caroline, my darling goddess I love you so" he responded pouring his heart to her.

He wasn't surprised she didn't return the sentiment she never did, but the way she pulled her aching limbs up to give him a soft kiss before smiling that rare smile made him hope, made him have faith that one day she would say it back.

So he closed his eyes and prayed for morning not to come, for her mind to get the better of her and make him leave her bed, only for the cycle to repeat the next night. At least for now he would hold her in his arms tight and cherish his sweet dove before she flew away back to her flock.

...

It was on nights like these the Queen with the cold heart and the broken soul would wake up beside her sleeping knight, before morning came and everything changed. She would curl up to his frame and whisper ever so softly in his ear, knowing he would not hear her…

"I love you too my dear Niklaus"


	2. The Very Thought of You

_"Ella Fitzgerald- The Very Thought of You"_

_The mere idea of you, the longing here for you_  
_you'll never know how slow the moments go till I'm near to you_  
_I see your face in every flower_  
_Your eyes in stars above_  
_Its just the thought of you_  
_The very thought of you, my love_

He had met her in Paris. It was 1948 and he a failing artist stumbled into a small café on the Ch_a_mps-Élysées in desperate need of a hot beverage that would soothe the pounding in his head from a night spent buried in a bottle of scotch, drowning his lack of inspiration.

He remembers staring into the black liquid, willing an idea to take hold, pleading for a strike of lightning to capture his thoughts once again when he had heard it.

A soft melody, a sweet serenade forcing his gaze to study the enchanting woman two tables down from him, humming carelessly as her delicate fingers turned the page of the novel she was currently engrossed in.

He was beguiled to say the least, he couldn't help but gawk as she lifted the white cup next her up to her full lips exhaling a soft blow, cooling the hot drink before taking a small sip.

He never thought he'd be jealous of a cup, oh but how he longed to be the porcelain stained red by her lipstick.

Klaus never held much thought in a God or a higher power but he thanked whoever had brought him this divine specimen. For the first time in years he felt inspired to draw something, something that held meaning, something that beaconed hope, and here she was sitting in front of him, perfected for rough hands plying lead across a blank page.

So he sketched her, ravished her with his dark orbs and transferred Venus onto paper. He outlined the golden curls framing her face, spotted the light freckles, faded by a rouge powder and danced around the flowing summer dress that hid what he was sure would be a glorious body.

The only detail he could never get quite right was the eyes he mused as he scrutinised the sketch in front of him, so blue, so full of life and hardship, happiness and sorrow, stillness and fire.

The eyes required colour, he needed to set the bright cyan in the iris, yet mark that hint of darkness, where all the secrets and all the pain was burrowed underneath.

"You know if you're going to draw a lady without her permission the least you can do is notice when the lady has been standing in front of you for several minutes."

He jumped realising the girl in question had noticed his drawing and was now standing beside him, hand on hip and looking down at him in disapproval.

"My apologies" he broke out of his stupor and smiled at the beautiful woman "when the moment strikes I tend to get a little carried away."

"As I've observed Monsieur" she gave a teasing grin, with her sinful red lips.

"Klaus, please" he introduced himself standing up and taking her hand "and what may I call you madam?"

"Well Monsieur Klaus you may refer to me as…Carolina" she spoke after a moment's hesitation.

This struck him as odd but he took her answer none the less with a warm smile and laid a gentle kiss upon her tender skin.

"It's a pleasure" he smirked to which she gave a small giggle and looked down, a deep vermilion blush appearing on her face that he wanted to recreate.

"So" he broke a short silence between them "due to my very poor behaviour I think it's only right that I make it up to you Carolina."

"Hmm…well that would all depend on what you had in mind"

"Perhaps I could interest you in joining me for a drink?" he gestured to the table in front of him.

"And…how shall that benefit me Monsieur?"

"Well for a start you will get to enjoy my company which I can assure you is much better than what you have seen as your first impression"

"Oh really? Do go on…" she rolled her eyes at his boast.

"Well I'm afraid my next point is more to my own benefit than to yours."

"How do you figure?" she gave a gulp at his piercing gaze.

"Because it does me the honour of spending some time with the most captivating woman I've ever laid eyes upon" his words took a sensual tone as he apprised her, this astounding masterpiece.

He saw her breath stop short at his confession and watched her turn away.

He tried to will her back with his mind, finding a sadness take hold at not being able to adore her smile.

When she finally faced him once more all traces of her previous shock had disappeared, as if it never held place.

"I bet you say that to all the girls" her teasing tone was back as she took a seat gracefully on the other side of the table.

"Only the cheeky ones love." he snarked back, giving her his signature smirk.

"Very well Monsieur Klaus" she cleared her throat "why don't you tell me all about this terrible illness you have for drawing innocent dames in bistros."

He took in her hand pointing to his chair with a bright beam and sat down, his blood scorched hot and his mouth ran dry at this teasing vixen.

What surprised him more though was not the lust he felt for his new muse but the delight he felt in her presence, it unnerved him slightly but he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to get to know Carolina, and he wanted to know everything, her hopes, her dreams, everything she wanted in life. He wanted to know it all.

…

Klaus and Carolina found themselves speaking for hours after that, topic after topic; undisturbed by the day passing around them, onlookers smiling at the young couple, sparks of new love happening in the city of romance; a bloom of fate as some would say.

Klaus was besotted with his muse, finding himself enthralled with everything she had to say, and while she didn't reveal much about herself he found himself fascinated with the little she did allow him a glimpse of.

He found out that she had been a nurse stationed here during the war, and when it ended she stayed and made Paris her home, now working as a singer at a lounge as a way to make ends meet.

He spoke of his desire to hear her sing to which she had given him a coquettish look and replied with a small _maybe_.

He learned of her own passion for creativity, in the form of literature. She had told him of the novel she had been reading, the one he had crafted into his sketch. It was a tale of adventure, romance and tragedy she had said.

When he had asked her why she held so much faith and promise in words of fiction he found himself memorised with her reply.

_"The same reason you draw I imagine. Freedom. My cover is your canvas, the words inside are your paintbrush, they come to life and tell stories of worlds unknown where restrictions and rules cease to exist; they are the only places our thoughts cannot harm us but soar beyond depths of small minds." _

He had showed her his work eagerly after that, found himself humbled as she complimented the way he had portrayed her, and reprimanded her when she said he had made her far more beautiful than she was in reality.

He told her of the trouble he had with his work, that ever since the war had ended and he returned home a young soldier things had changed for him, his outlook on life was not as carefree and magical as it once was.

Told her that he found truth and all the harshness he had seen to be a block to his muse; he could never truly find the beauty in this place any more…well until now.

Finally their conversation came to a close when he expressed his desire to see her form shine brightly in a portrait.

How he wanted to use his best paints and mix the most marvellous colours in order to truly capture her essence, like a phoenix caught in the madness of a burning wing.

_"Could you immortalise me?"_

He had found himself speechless at her ask. Could he do it? Could he freeze time for her? Eternalise her?

He decided then and there it would be his best work; the only painting he would look back at in fifty years' time and find no faults.

It would just be her. Forever frozen for his eyes alone.

So he looked at the blonde with the curious smile and gave a small nod, anxiously preparing for a great deal of time spent with his new muse, his Carolina he called her.

…

They had met at his apartment for weeks on end after that, his back room stripped bare said for an easel and copious amounts of velvet cushions and silk blankets of royal purple and ivory fit for a queen laid out on the floor as he directed his Carolina in different positions, never quite finding the right one.

He would spend each afternoon starting his painting, only to stop finding something to criticize so he could start all over again. Today it was that the lighting in the room had not been quite right, yesterday he said the dress she wore clashed with the colours around her and last week it had been that his lines weren't as magnificent as he hoped them to be.

While his excuses irritated them both, he had found them a pleasant reason to bring he and his Carolina closer together.

He would pick her up in the morning and they would have breakfast at their first place of meeting. He of course would always insist on paying even when she denied him, his time served and family inheritance had more than compensated him to live a comfortable life and if he was going to blow his money away he would rather it be spent on Carolina, anything else would just seem trivial now.

After Breakfast they would make way back to his apartment to attempt the portrait that always ended up going wrong, which would inevitably leave them to occupy their time in other ways.

They would either spend long evenings talking about mindless subjects on his couch or give into eventual hunger and go out to dinner along the Riviera.

They would dance in the streets after consuming too much wine or pull out a deck of cards and gamble the night away under the stars.

They laughed, they argued, they screamed in happiness and annoyance but overall they enjoyed their time spent with one another, neither wanting it to end when that eventual time came and he would walk Carolina back to her apartment to get ready for work.

Even then he would sneak into the smoky lounge and watch her sing, mesmerised by the hypnotising notes of Ella Fitzgerald and Helen Ward coming from her sweet mouth, as the crystals on her tight gown blinded him when she twirled on the stage, the star of the show.

To say he was falling hard would be an understatement, he found his every thought consumed by her, taken by her, and every hour spent away from her was filled by madness trying to complete his painting. It frustrated him to no end.

He was completely and utterly possessed by her.

…

While their relationship had evolved he had yet to make a bold move, of course there were lingering touches as he tugged at her waist when they danced under pale moonlight and heated looks passed as she stole the cigarette from his lips and placed it in her own, claiming it for herself; but other than that he hadn't pushed.

Carolina was a free spirit you see, always steps ahead of him, he could never determine what her reaction would be and wouldn't risk her leaving if he was to misinterpret something.

Well it seems as though he didn't have anything to worry about, for one evening while he stood trying to recreate the image of the blonde in the white dress sprawled on the floor under soft light, he felt a presence approach him from behind.

Smelling the lavender he sighed appealingly, feeling her chest brush against his shoulder as he shakily moved the paintbrush, a shadow cast over him, watching him.

Klaus felt her soft hand lay on top of his gently, silently asking him to guide her. He obliged moving the strokes over the canvas, leading her in his path.

They both carried on in a comfortable silence when he felt her hand subtlety move from his own and slide up his arm, her nails scraping against his white shirt, he shivered at the sensation, the air now thick with tension.

She moved her hand around his biceps, gently caressing the area before moving onto her destination, from the stubble of his chin, to the hollow of his cheeks, her delicate palm soothed the tender spot, making his eyes shut in pleasure.

He felt her nudge him to face her, and when he opened his eyes he found her own staring at him in a want that made his body react in thick desire.

He took a shallow breath as her face began to move towards his own, her eyes now focussed on his lips.

The movement was slow and while he had spent all this time waiting he couldn't take it any more, being so close to her, feeling her hot breath brush against him.

He quickly buried his hands in her golden tresses and brought her lips against his, they both sighed loudly into the kiss, feeling home.

Klaus moved his lips against hers desperately like a man starved as she wrapped her arms around his neck yanking at his short hair in retaliation, this wasn't a sweet or gentle kiss you see, it was passionate and forceful as the two young lovers felt the unbridled need to be wrapped up in one other.

He felt his own desire grow at her moan of pleasure when his tongue entered her mouth, tangling with her own before nibbling at her juicy lips with his teeth.

He tried to pull her closer only to huff in dissatisfaction as his seated position made it hard to envelope her fully, amazingly as always she read his mind and positioned herself on his lap, curling around him as their tongues moved against one another. He locked his arms around her hips and smiled heavenly into the kiss.

After several moments passed he felt her lower body move and grind unknowingly against his lap making his pants strain tight. He reluctantly broke their union, and laughed as he heard her groan of protest.

It's not like he wanted to stop worshipping those succulent lips. Ever. But he had to restrain himself before he threw her on the first hard surface and ravished her like a wild beast.

She seemed to understand his silent frustration and rested her forehead against his contently; he pulled her closer in silent thanks, embracing her.

"When will we ever finish this painting" she giggled breaking him out of his trance like state.

"I don't know love" he chuckled back "why does my company not please you?"

"I think we both know that's not true" she raised her brow, gesturing to their current position.

"There is just something…something missing, a tranquillity…a genuine moment, something astonishingly honest that it needs…" he shook his head at his own puzzling rambles.

"I may have an idea" she beamed at him after a moment's silence.

He gazed at her in curiosity as she stood from his lap and moved towards the blankets on the floor, facing him in complete seriousness.

He gave a silent gasp as he watched her reach behind and pull at the zipper of her dress, releasing her from its restraints, falling swiftly at her feet.

His gaze turned dark as he hungrily swept her body, now only covered in a silk negligée and sheer stockings, that she relieved herself of one by one, leaving her bare for his eyes only.

Her perfectly rounded breasts, rosy nubs that grew hard at the cold air and as his gaze travelled lower he could see the curve to her toned hips and milky thighs, leading to a stub of short golden hairs that hid a place he longed to have his head in between.

He took a deep breath moving his gaze back reluctantly to her face that peered at him unbashful, her own desires reflected in those blue orbs at his adoration.

"So do you approve Monsieur? Capturing a moment that has been permitted to your eyes only?"

He gulped at her confession and found himself suddenly nervous at her choosing of him, her bearing of the soul and the heart.

It was what the painting needed though, she was right, he could not think of anything more beautiful, more sentimental to paint, freezing an image that she had given to him, that would always belong only to him.

"Lie down" he commanded softly his eyes dark, watching her situate herself in the silk and velvet, leaning on one arm while the other was strung across her stomach lazily, her lipstick still smudged from his kisses.

His own silent mark as the artist of this painting.

…

He painted for hours, stroking every detail with his fine brush, honing every curve and slope of her body, and capturing every ounce of life in her irises as he always wanted too.

As night turned into dawn he watched her eyes droop sleepily beneath her lashes.

Marking the final curve in his name with black paint, he dropped the brush into the jar of water beside him and wiped his hands strewn with different acrylics and pastels.

"It's done my love" he called out to her.

"Hmm…can I see it?" she asked wearily, removing herself from the cramped position and lying down on her stomach allowing him to glance at her perfectly rounded bottom as he tidied the area around him, trying to distract himself from baser thoughts that had consumed him all night.

"Of course for what would the painting be without its model" he grinned turning the canvas towards her so that she could set loving eyes upon his masterpiece. No. Their masterpiece.

"Oh Klaus" she gasped "It's marvellous, beautiful, spectacular…I'm afraid there are not enough words in the world to describe it, it's above the universe itself."

"As are you Carolina" he knelt besides her caressing a hot cheek and watched as she blushed flustered by his compliment.

"Come now where is my brave vixen gone?"

"She is not used to such kind words" her voice was laced with insecurity as she shook her head at him.

"Then the people around her are foolish cads who are unworthy of her mere presence" he laid a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"I know of one who is more than worthy" at ghost smile appeared across her lips.

He smiled and leaned forward capturing those lips with his own once again and moaned as she ran her tongue across his, forcing him to chase after her.

He pouted as she broke away, but his face quickly became still when he saw the great passion in her eyes that warmed his own beating heart.

"Well you have immortalised me as I asked" she touched his lips with her fingers, smiling as he laid small butterfly kisses upon the tips "I now wish for you to make me yours, and you mine"

Her dark gaze made his own blacken, a deep possessiveness rising inside him. That part that wanted nothing more than to claim her as his own, watch his muse succumb under his own hands. But he had to be sure, had to know that this was what she really wanted.

"Carolina I…" he was cut off by her mouth pressing against his own.

"Shh" she broke away from him trailing her mouth to his ear, leaving hot kisses in her wake that made him harden.

"Belong to me" she whispered tugging at his shirt.

That's all it took before he lost control, pressing his lips to the crook in her neck and pushing her back against the cold sheets below, beginning his journey of her body that lasted until the sun shined high in the blue abyss and cast a light in their circle of obsession.

He'll never forget the moment he broke into her after spending a great deal of time on his knees, his tongue deep inside her core before she had tugged him by the hair and asked him to make her his.

He hated seeing the brief pain that flashed in her eyes when he filled her, but it was soon replaced by loving kisses and deep thrusts, making them both moan for all of Paris to hear as they came to their climax.

They lost themselves in bliss as they became each other's, forgetting time and their surroundings, only needing the save haven of their bodies joined together; feeling more complete than they ever had before.

Only two words were uttered between glistening bodies that day…

_"Mine"_

_"Always" _

…

Days passed by blissfully after that, no matter time spent or his mood Carolina never failed to take his breath away and have him falling at her knees, more than willing to bring her happiness.

He told her he would give her the world if he could, from Paris to Berlin and everything in between, it would all be hers. His heart soared when she told him it would all be worthless without him.

His inspiration never failed him any more, after finishing his prized piece that he hung proudly in his studio he found himself with a bundle of new ideas, his muse always eager to help him out.

He painted her bare, he painted her with clothes, he painted her eating breakfast in the kitchen, hair mussed wearing his crinkled white shirt, and he painted her outside, dancing in the rain, a soaked dress clinging to her form…well that one didn't last long before he had thrown her over his shoulder and took her in a warm bath that he'd drawn, the water thrashing out of the tub as she bounced above him, her face etched in utter pleasure as she came to her climax, making him follow only moments after.

Sometimes they spent all day in bed only leaving when another form of hunger got to them.

On other days they spent time in the city enjoying the summer months before subtle touches and feather light kisses on her neck and his ear became too much resulting in a sprint back to his apartment, where he would hike up her skirt passed her hips, rip away the blouse that covered her glorious breasts and pound into her against the nearest wall.

They knew that they were playing a risky game, being so reckless, but the truth was they just didn't care, what would come was fates decision and they were too caught up in each other for anything else to matter.

He was completely in love with her, that he would admit, he couldn't imagine even looking at another woman again, she was everything, the total embodiment of his existence and without her, he was sure he would crumble.

The only thing he could remotely complain about was her refusal to talk about her past with him; any time he'd bring it up she'd sweep the subject under the rug or distract him with wandering hands.

"Who are you Carolina?" he had asked her one day as he lay in bed watching with hungry eyes as she clipped her black stockings to lace undergarments, readying herself for work after a lazy afternoon spent in tangled sheets, soaked by sweat covered skin.

"What?" came her puzzled response as she stood from the chaise she had previously sat upon and appeared in front of him.

"Who are you?" he repeated smirking "I don't even know your last name."

"It's boring" she huffed.

"I don't think anything about you could ever be boring love."

"Well what are you looking for? A label?" she grinned teasingly "adventure seeker, grieving widow, perhaps a jewel thief wanted on five continents."

"Carolina" he scolded her giggling form lightly "this isn't one of your books, I want to know more about you…I want to know everything"

He spoke from the heart and exposed a vulnerability that only she was allowed to witness.

Taking her hand and caressing the soft skin he brought her down on the bed beside him, trying to gauge her reaction.

She sighed at his touch and moved towards him, warming him with gentle eyes.

"What I am Klaus Mikaelson is a woman very much in love with an extraordinary man."

Her words conjured a large smile of his own that stretched his dimples she loved to poke; he laughed and wiped a single tear that had fallen to her rosy cheek.

Her confession of love was enough to distract him from any previous thoughts as he grazed his lips against hers and rolled her underneath him, pinning her to the soft mattress and ignoring comments about being late.

He licked his lips preparing to mark every inch of her skin with his love so that the world would know she belonged to him and only him.

They made love that night in a way they hadn't before, loving each other sweetly, then loving each other hard, loving each other with their words, then loving each other with their hands and their mouths.

It was a glorious night and ended with bodies entwined, no space between the young lovers as they dreamed of only each other, lives spent together in different worlds and different times.

…

It was a letter that ultimately broke them apart, a simple letter, stained by a coffee cup and written in dull black ink that he found sitting on her vanity one night while he waited in her dressing room as she greeted her fans after the show.

"Klaus you'll never believe what this wretched old man said to me tonight, he….what's wrong?" she had asked him watching his back tense at her presence.

"What is this?" he gritted and turned around, watching her face become one of worry as she took in the letter his fists clenched around, crinkling the paper.

"You weren't supposed to see that" she muttered softly looking away from his angry eyes.

"Well I can see why you would want to hide it from me Carolina or should I call you Caroline hmm?" he walked towards her, his tone laced with venom.

"A Miss Caroline Forbes who your dear mother writes too all the way from Virginia, begging her reckless daughter to come home, back to her fiancée who is just lost without your presence apparently."

"Klaus it's not what you think" she shook her head reaching out for him only to be rejected when he yanked his arm away from her touch in distaste.

"Not what I think?" he roared "Well why don't I tell you what I think" she winced as he came close to her, standing tall, forcing her to peer into his cold eyes that once held such warmth for her.

"I think you in all your notions of romance got sick of your boring picket fence life in a one pony town with an equally boring boy" he sneered at the thought "so you decided to run away and find something a little more dangerous."

"How am I doing so far hmm?"

"You're wrong" she spat at him, tears forming in her eyes. He was too far gone in her betrayal to notice.

"Oh I don't think I am" he shook his head "I think you got a little too caught up in your tales of adventure and decided to have your own."

"Stop" she snarled at him.

"So what am I too you sweetheart?" he raised his brow mockingly "Just one last fling before you settle down, back to your perfect life, with a perfect husband and have your perfect children!" his voice raised into a yell as he finished his speech.

"Stop!" she screamed back to him, finally snapping "You have no idea what you are talking about so just stop right now" the tears were practically streaming down her face.

"Then how do you explain this?" he waved the letter in her face.

"You can't can you?" he spat seeing her guilty look "You're nothing but a liar and a foolish girl, certainly not the woman I had thought you to be."

"Klaus please I…" she begged him.

"No I won't hear anymore lies" he shook his head in disgust and walked around her "Goodbye Caroline."

He didn't give himself a chance to hear her desperate call before he had slammed the dressing room door shut behind him and stormed out into the hustle and throngs of people, hiding himself.

He felt betrayed, how could she do this to him? He asked particularly no one.

Of course she had a different life, someone else who loved her, who was waiting for her.

Everything had been going too well for him after all, the world was far too corrupted to allow him to be happy, and now his Carolina was gone, this girl he didn't know in her place.

He had felt his heart shatter into a million pieces, a hard knife in his gut reading that letter knowing that she had a life to get back to, a life that didn't include him, and a stable world that he could probably never offer her.

So here he was, just like on the night before he had met his Carolina, standing in a dark apartment, drowning away his sorrows into a bitter bottle of scotch, and then another one, and then another one.

He tore her face out of his sketch book and lit it on fire, throwing it out onto the streets of Paris for everyone to see that she was gone.

He took his masterpiece, his most prized possession and held a match up to that too but found himself unable to move, screaming in his blazing torment at not being able to let go.

He grabbed the painting and locked it his old army trunk, a trunk where all his past regrets were kept, so that they would not dare to haunt him at night.

And so there it stayed as the rest of her burned; he cleansed his surroundings knowing full well that he would never be able to completely cleanse himself…

**To be continued? Should I do a second part or are you all for the angst? ;) **


	3. The Very Thought of You Part 2

**For Stannissqueen and Stefansfangirl. Follow up piece to the previous one shot. **

**Warning: Mentions of abuse**

* * *

_**"The Very Thought of You Part Two"**_

Three days, 13 hours, 25 minutes and 33 seconds.

A black hand on a dear grandfather, he watched with eyes like desperate child waiting for school's end. Counted and longed for this nightmare to be over.

His Carolina…or Caroline he supposes he should call her now. Her given name. Given by a currently distressed mother in a town called Mystic Falls. He refused to believe it. Refused to believe in her. Extinguish his apartment of all traces and try to make her disappear as if but a deity never existed.

A useless endeavour. She was everywhere, in the walls, in his paint.

Her nails burrowed deep into his skin, claws left sharp and raw on his back. Her perfume cemented into his clothing, lavender essence dripped within the creases of a white shirt she would steal. He can vaguely remember stumbling upon a gold tube of lipstick, peeling back the lid to a blood cylinder. Her signature colour, just how fitting it was.

And although the days were painful the unforgettable ache would come during a sleepless night. He could still feel her shell moving towards his back, wrapping an arm around his waist and a leg hitched around his thigh, looking for warmth even in the burrows of French heat.

He would slide his hand under the heavy covers, searching for bare skin to rub tender spots and warm the places he so loved to suckle, only to be met with his own scarred thigh, empty and uncased of milky limbs usually etched with a primal handprint.

Now he sits, now he thinks. Drives himself into a cruel oblivion where his hands can only produce the textures of a painted past and the dance of liars. Each canvas spotting the scene from a story. A story that told a loss of innocence. She a pretender that could not deny a trial, he an orchestrator of harsh venom that reared an ugly head when boxed into a corner.

He had called her foolish. He was foolish. Just a joker in her deck of cards, yet here a distorted version of her lay upon his canvas, where all around would hail in servitude for the queen of a bruised organ.

And he would ask himself, had they ever truly been innocent? Two unorthodox souls who flew beyond rules, and lived within the closed fist of sin.

Was love a sin?

"_Oh don't you know my darling Klaus? Young love is always doomed."_

"_That's a very cynical thing for you of all people to say my sweetheart."_

"_Perhaps I'm learning from the best"_

"_Hmm I wouldn't be so sure. You have your own secrets Carolina."_

"_Possessiveness my love, breeds a tie that strangles and causes us to lose breath"_

"_And should all love be possessed?"_

"_It is within our nature to claim the other half of one's heart is it not?"_

"_Soul mates?"_

"_Yes. Love is indeed a possessive vocabulary."_

"_Mine?" he had smiled only partly joking._

"_Always my beautiful artiste" she whispered back burning "always until the world shatters and all that is left is haunted memories." _

Her words burned him now. What was once a mere jest between lovers as he sketched the beauty whose attention wavered into a dusty hardback was now a sting, a cruel fate in the depths of betraying lips.

Had she known how it would end between them? Was this a composition of undisclosed desires wielding secret strings on torn flesh? Or did she feel the sting a scorch as he did?

These were the questions that ran through a pounding head as he sat staring into the dawn. The questions that drove madness as he listened for the ghost of graceful footsteps on fine wood.

For these were the questions he feared he would never get the privilege of an answer too.

On day four he left the apartment, out of scotch and out of suffocating walls.

He found himself wandering from street to street, Saloon to distorted back alleys, stumbling against the grime of brick walls as judging faces passed, sneering at the fumbling drunk cursing blondes in poor French.

It wasn't until he heard the echo of trumpets that his blurred vision winced against blue strobe; the fuzzy sign became clearer stopping him dead in his tracks.

_La Désirer _

Or in his common tongue "The Desired." It was her club. The back alley lounge that housed those driven by lust and the loss of inhibitions. It was where the wealthy went to grow richer and where the less fortunate danced and served until their feet would bleed, in hopes to put dinner on the table another day.

He never liked her working there, he would tell her often while seeing her sing did things to him that were unexplainable he wanted her to only sing for him, he wanted her body to sway only for him; and most of all he wanted her safe and in his arms always. She never listened though, told him that she would never let go of the independence she now held. And while he tried to assure her he never wanted her to lose that, that killing her fire would surely kill him, she would merely roll her eyes and say they'd talk about it later. They never did.

He felt the anger come rushing back, the seethe of secrets left a bitter taste in his mouth, how she would avoid him so. Inebriated turned an unforgiving sober, drained from his system, dry and thirsty for something entirely different.

"_**There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness." - Friedrich Nietzsche**_

...

Klaus stepped inside the misty lounge, smoke filled his lungs and the scent of hard whiskey hit his nose. Familiar faces either sneered or winked at him, and tempting thoughts pulled him to the bar where he could drown himself further. Then he remembered he was here for a reason, and as if but a boy in an olive uniform again nothing could pull him away from the task at hand.

Thankfully his search was brief. For a journey through the crowd lead a compass to his attention. At the pinnacle of the stage he heard the unmistakable hum of a shadowed figure, a teasing tune where a bird stood positioned upon her podium.

A single spotlight, a leading force in darkness. He stayed behind the crowd, far enough not to be noticed but close enough to gasp in all her beauty, as the light soaked her perfection dosed in an inappropriately short purple number; she would twirl and begin her sirens call.

_If they asked me, I could write a book  
about the way you walk, and whisper, and look._

_I could write a preface  
on how we met  
so the world would never forget._

His skin grew hot as he gazed upon her red lips, the tip of a pink tongue would caress the microphone.

Oh he knew how it felt to have those silky slopes upon his body, too struggle against the mattress as wet flesh licked lower…and lower, she loved to make him sing for her.

_And the simple secret of the plot  
is just to tell them that I love you a lot._

She was majestic. In this moment, she was the woman he met in that café on a dull morning in Paris. She was the epitome of his life whether her named changed in vowels or not. Right now in smoke she was his, and he was hers.

_And the world discovers  
as my book ends,  
How to make two lovers  
of friends._

If only it was that easy.

_If they asked me, I could write a book  
about the way you walk, and whisper, and look._

He jolted as her eyes met his suddenly. Bit his lip as the unconscious shiver fell over her upon his presence. The air between them could have lit a fire, but the love her words spoke of felt warm not suffocating. And before he even knew it, his feet moved through the crowd and towards the stage, to bask at his muse in all her divinity.

He raised his lips in a small amused smile as she stuttered in her next lyrics, shaken by his approach. But inevitably like a cat on her feet, she quickly composed herself, covering the slip up with a marvelous dance that made the crowd go silent in appreciation and wonder.

Like a cruel mistress, when she came back to the microphone it was he who began to shake. For the vixen aimed her now confident gaze directly in his line of sight. Staring him down, painted eyelashes in quiet challenge as she ended her song with care and affection for the man she loved so.

_And the simple secret of the plot  
is just to tell them that I love you a lot. And the world discovers  
as my book ends,  
How to make two lovers  
of friends._

"_For you, my love"_

These were the last whispered words he heard her utter before the stage went black again. As the curtains went down and nightcaps were poured, every fella in the joint took their birds in their arms. He went to follow his. The one he would always chase without capture.

Forever.

It's time to sing little songbird.

"Quite the show love"

He stood watching by the open door of a green room he'd been in many times before. So why now did he linger as nervous visitor?

"Thank you" she whispered quietly, peering at him through the mirror of her vanity while she rubbed herbal oils into her sore ankles.

He felt his mouth go dry and his body react at the sight of her long legs on display, smooth and ripe to be locked around his waist, those sore ankles digging red marks into his back. The only thing that would separate them from being joined would be the tiny undergarments he knew she wore under her silky white robe. He smirked at the image conjured of her exposed to the taste of his hunger.

"What?" she asked, seeing his gaze wander in appraisal over her form.

"Nothing" he shrugged a small tell of amusement from his fantasy. "It seems putting on a show seems to be quite a talent of yours my dear."

"Klaus…" she stopped her movements, placing her feet on the ground.

"However an encore must be something one is not granted the privilege too" he raised his brow expectantly. "Tell me Caroline, were you ever planning to see me again?"

"Yes" she sneered at him, her face hard as she stood from the cushioned stool.

"When?" he widened his eyes in mock, stepping inside the room with determination "were you waiting for the rain?"

"Don't you dare. I tried to explain myself to you, but you wouldn't hear a word of it. So I thought I'd give you some time to cool off, thinking perhaps then you'd be of more pleasant company, evidently I was mistaken."

"Well then do forgive me sweetheart for acting in such an abysmal way. It's not as if I was just betrayed by the woman I loved, heaven forbid."

"I didn't betray yo…wait loved?" she took a sharp breath, the hurt stained in her eyes "You don't mean that."

"Why not?" he spat "My feelings were never truly reciprocated anyways, so what could such crumbs mean to you now?"

"Everything" she cried, flailing her hands from her body.

"I don't believe you"

"Then you're wrong" she shook her head dejectedly "you don't know just how wrong you are Klaus Mikaelson."

"So show me" he said after a brief pause, taking steps towards her, only to find himself directly in front of the unforgiving angel, his breath hot on her cheek.

"Show me exactly who you are Caroline Forbes"

…

_When she was a girl, she would wear pigtails and steal her mother's lipstick, only too clumsily smear a red clown and stain white pearls. She would climb the tallest tree in her yard and gaze upon the square meter shackles of a town called home. _

'_Home' she never understood the meaning of the word, was it simply a place? Somewhere geographical that you resided within, where the people who raised you built their life and chose their stable habitat?_

_That's when she read her first book. It spoke of home, but not in the way she knew it. It spoke of belonging, of warmth and having something to hold onto that made you feel safe, a haven if you will. It was fair to say this shocked her, made her feel uncomfortable in the marble walls of a fort so high it suffocated her but never comforted her._

_As she got older the further home became from its definition. Just a girl of seventeen, she hid in the fields of barley and would drown herself in mint water of a crisp tub. To be anywhere else, too see anything different, was a blessing. And as she got older, she began to understand what family meant in this masked town._

_Her father, the ring leader. The Mayor. He controlled the whip that kept the family. Some called him Gangster others called him leader. She called him monster. _

_The man who left indents of a crest on her cheek. The man who transported girls who looked for safety in war; those etched with a star to this underbelly of a cage forcing their bodies, selling their freedom and killing them with a silver barrel, marked in F when he was done. _

_But he didn't do it alone. No. She soon realized the extent of the factions, that those called "founding families" those she had broken bread with on several occasions were just as disgusting. _

_The town called Mystic Falls was corrupted and her mother just as much, trained like a dog to agree and obey in all her father's wishes. She tried to help her, but caught rough slap and threatening words in return; the woman with blonde brittle hair was too far gone in this bottomless pit, and Caroline dare say that woman had learned to enjoy it, to find pleasure in the things her husband did to those girls. _

_And then not long after her father tried to get her a trainer of her very own. His name Tyler; he had jet black hair and soulless eyes that would look dangerously at her, violence in his stare. The very sight of him revolted her. They all revolted her. Forwent humanity and used their lack of emotions to guide them without remorse, she looked into their eyes and saw nothing; they were not capable of being saved. _

_They were the true monsters. _

_They were your family. _

_They were your home. _

_And she had to fight them…_

_So When Tyler eventually found her exposing them to an officer from out of town, Alaric was him name, he couldn't have been angrier with his pet. And when he put his hands around her throat calling her "bitch" and moving to unbuckle his belt, she screamed, kicked and fought until her father's crystal vase from St Petersburg smashed over his head knocking him to the floor, not dead but badly wounded. She watched as the blood seeped, and if she didn't know any better she'd say it was black, she'd say it was toxic. _

It was then the fear took over. It was then she realized she had to escape, had the chance to escape.

_And, but a bird freed from its cage in the South, _

_She flew. _

"_**Before I knew escape, life was something to be endured, passively. Now I hunger for it."-Kristin Halbrook, **__**Nobody but Us**_

...

"and Alaric helped me" she sighed, they were both now sitting on the red divan, his hand squeezing hers "he got in contact with his wife Isobel who was looking for girls to train as nurses, and from there I just kept…moving. My last stop as a nurse was Paris and I loved this city so much I stayed, I became Carolina."

She finished her tale with a heavy exhale, exhausted yet relived from finally telling someone the truth. As much as she loved fiction, living in it for so long can become lonely, it can eat you alive to the point even she would believe her own lies. Perhaps now reality wouldn't be so harsh, perhaps she'd be free. If only she could read the mind of her quiet lover, she so desperately took as her own.

Klaus had said nothing. He wanted to speak, wanted to take her in his arms and carry her far from the world as she knew it, but he was too furious too utter a single word.

How can it be? How could such a force of light have seen so much pain, experienced things that even the hardest of people would break under?

He wanted to murder all those bastards, see them pay for what they had done. He wanted it so much his finger itched, ravenous for a craved vengeance. But before he could make a move, he felt her hand tighten around his, reining him in like a heavy wave without even knowing the effect she had, how she warmed him so.

He always knew she was strong, knew that no matter what life threw at her she would still get up in the morning, ready to face the sun. For the sun was her strength, her force, it illuminated all her beauty and heart; it was why she was his muse, it was why he took what he could from her essence and transferred it onto paper, honing it in eternity.

"Well say something" he heard her plead, lifting her mouth in cautious smile.

"I'm…" he swallowed "I'm so sorry Caroline"

He saw her face shoot too his in bafflement. "Don't be" she shook her head in protest "it's not your fault."

"No" he agreed "but if I had just listened to you, I shouldn't have…"

"Stop" she placed a hand over the light stubble on his cheeks, making him close his eyes and hum in content "You had every right to be upset; I shouldn't have kept you in the dark for so long, involving you in this mess."

"It wouldn't have mattered" he shrugged placing his hand over hers; rubbing the soft skin "I would love you whether you were an adventure seeker, grieving widow or a wanted jewel thief" he laughed repeating her words. "I would follow such a woman running from her past everywhere, for I go with my heart. My muse, my darling Caroline."

"And I would always let you chase me" she smirked moving her head towards him, her breath on his lips as she mumbled her next words sensually-

"My Klaus, my artiste."

He fused his lips with hers. Rough as tongues delved, wet and a tinge of blood as she bit his lip harshly, sucked it and murdered him with her kiss.

He growled yanking her from the seat, to straddle legs gone numb, pulling her directly on him, she grinded and moaned with his fingers sliding up her thighs, following the goosebumps.

Flimsy material was torn from her arms as he feasted on her shoulder, molded her bare breasts into his hands and slithered his tongue over sweet nubs.

He moved down her chest, in between those breasts as she leaned back, further and further, clinging onto his arms and his hair as he lapped at her navel and lower stomach.

He can't remember when his clothes came off or how he ended up on the floor with his muse above him but he groaned with lust as she slid her body down his, whispering of deliverance, of nights without him, touching her, wishing it was him. She took him in her hands and made him beg for release, with every lick of his tip, every tickling nail.

Frustrated he grabbed her and spread her against the wall, down down he went, made a trail of love bites and watched her squirm and arch under his fingers, wet and sweet was the taste as he sucked the evidence of her crying bliss.

Finally after what seemed like hours spent they lay upon the worn Persian rug, breathing heavily, their chests stuck together as he slid into her slick heat, both sighing at the familiar feeling, the satisfaction of him filling her.

He wouldn't let her close her eyes, kept them locked with his, he wanted to feel every part of her and have her feel him. It was like they were seeing each other for the first time, every thrust, every exploration and sweet whimper as she slid her hands down his back grasping his firm bottom, encouraging him to go faster.

And just when he felt her going over the edge, his name a scream on her lips, he pushed himself deeper, grounded his hips against hers in one hard and final thrust, while his hands kneaded her breasts. It tipped them both into oblivion, her fingers grasping at his cheeks still, fingers leaving intendments as he felt his climax with a moan, muffled by her mouth, finishing with tongues entwined.

He dropped on top of her, sweaty and in utter bliss; felt her heart pounding against his while he burrowed into her now wet curls.

"Mmm" he hummed into her shoulder "that was fantastic" he lifted his eyes to meet hers in a dimpled smile "You're fantastic."

"Stop it" she giggled happily stroking his back "you already lured me into your bed no need to suck up now."

He smirked in return "well I'm afraid love it's something you'll have to get used to, since I intend to keep you in my bed and never let you leave again."

"Hmm, I'm fairly certain I won't need much convincing."

"Well then its settled" he chuckled moving himself to the side and bringing her into his soaked chest "we'll go back to my apartment, lock the doors and bury ourselves under the covers, ignoring the world and everything around us."

"That's sounds perfect" she kissed his chest "But what will we do for food?"

"Oh my dear Caroline there is always other means of satisfying hunger" he let his wolfish grim loom over her.

She gasped teasingly, hitting his chest and breaking out in laughter when he retorted by tickling her sides.

After a tackle of limbs he set himself back on top of her and pinned her hands above her head. Beaming down at the glorious blonde, her curls spread across the carpet he captured her lips in a slow and agonising kiss, preparing to fully make up for lost time.

* * *

...

Days circled and two young lovers had found themselves closer than ever before. They spoke of all that had happened, made promises to each other between airless embraces and left the past where it belonged.

She saw him a thousand times over as she explored him, kissed every mark, every scar. She reached into him and made him beg for her to wear him out, exhaust him so that he could no longer move without her.

His sheets were never made and their bodies barely parted. Whether it was the early rise of a seven am in the kitchen, he'd hike up her pink negligée to reveal a perfect bottom and take her from behind, slowly and torturous for their pleasure or whether it simply meant holding her in his sleep, legs entangled and breath upon faces.

Sometimes Blankets sat cool upon the roof as he watched his muse drop the juices of a grape on her lip, found himself searching for stars as they spoke of the adventures they would one day experience. Forever he promised her. He would find her always, his free songbird, his naked muse.

His time piece hung proudly once again, and he painted new memories, more vivid and explosive than the last, each more exposed each more vulnerable.

He showed her his own secrets, and told her all of what he had done in this life. He knew there was a chance she'd spit him as monster, but he needed her to know, to truly see all of him, the way he saw all of her now. To say her response both shocked and overjoyed him would have been an understatement...

"_I've seen monsters Klaus, you are far from one. No more than me, we can save each other."_

They held each other that night. His head buried between her breasts as she shook with invisible tears and they let themselves feel everything, pain and joy. The future is what would come with the sunrise.

...

_A week later_

It was inept of them really, to ignore the obvious. The letter that literally tore them apart. They were so caught up in one another they hadn't realized. The depth of what this letter meant for Caroline, the inevitable meeting from her past. They just hadn't thought, and he cursed himself every minute for it.

Only when the words from Caroline's boss he'd just passed on the street spoke of a dark haired man looking for her, a one with a score to settle did he put it all together.

Only when he dropped the art supplies and sprinted back to his apartment, to find the door open and his muse on the floor, a gunshot wound deep in her body, red fluid clashing with her white blouse did he scream, damn the gods and cradled the angel, stricken her face with his tears, and hold her tight to his heart.

"Caroline" he cried, frozen in his place.

"K…la…us" she struggled to open her eyes, gurgling his name.

"Caroline" he took her face in his hands "keep your eyes open love, it's going to be okay"

He had already told Caroline's boss to get help as he ran, just in case. He loathed himself for leaving her in the first place.

"You…promise?" he wiped the tear that fell from her eye.

"I promise" his words were strong and unwavering, but he felt the pit inside of him swallow and grow blacker. He swears if anything happens to her he would rip apart the earth and tear it to shreds, until he found a way to bring his Caroline back to him.

"Well…at least I get….to….say I told you…..so" she attempted a laugh before hissing in pain.

"What?" he asked softly, mainly attempting to keep her awake. Where was this help?

"I….to…ld…you…all…young…love is doomed…"

Those were the last words she uttered before her eyes shut plain, her hand falling from his. They were barely audible but he heard them clear, and he hated her for it, hated himself, hated everyone who dared to strip her away from his arms.

No. This was not allowed to happen. He forbid it. She couldn't leave him, not now. She promised.

He yelled, screamed and growled at the walls, begged for help and cradled her head close to his chest. From the moment the doctors took her from his arms and the nurses commanded him to wait outside was a grey blur.

He followed numbly and waited for news, but the only words going through a fractured mind that evening were more jarring than they had ever been before-

"_Could you immortalize me?"_

…

"Alright I think that's enough for tonight. Time for me to get some rest" the old man in the oak chair closed the thick red book, watching the two teenagers lounging on the floor gape at him in shock.

"No way" the boy with dark brown hair yelled while the pale blonde girl next to him nodded in agreement.

"What?" the man asked amused and knowing full well what he was doing.

"Grandpa" the girl whined "you just spent like forever reading us this book and now you're gonna end it there?"

"Yeah that's bullsh…" the boy protested before he was nudged in the ribs by little miss perfect.

"When you get to my age boy, you'll understand" the man chuckled, taking the book with him and leaving the children to their own devices.

"He can be a real arse sometimes" the boy scowled.

"Henry" he heard his grandmother call out behind them, entering the room from her office where she spent hours at her dusty typewriter "watch your language"

"Sorry gran" the boy frowned "but he's messing with us again"

"Oh dear" the older woman shook her head at her husband's antics "what'd he do this time?"

"He was telling us this like really old story about this guy and girl who fell in love in Paris. It was sooo romantic" her grandaughter Becky sighed heavenly "but then all these terrible things happen to them and grandpa wouldn't tell us how it ended..."

"I know the one" the woman in the flowery dress laughed "Your grandpa used to play that same trick on your mother and your uncles too. Something about patience being a virtue"

"Well it sucks" henry flopped on the floor again, unhappy that after two hours spent of listening to this sappy story he got cut off when it was finally getting good.

"Hmm" their grandma grinned "well I suppose I could tell you how it ended"

"You could?" they asked simultaneously, beaming at the prospect.

"Sure. I may not have the talent for vision you grandfather has, but I could tell a good tale back in the day."

"You seriously know how it goes?" Becky asked skeptically "without having to even read from the book?"

"Of course I do" she sat down, rolling her eyes at the beautiful grandchildren she had been blessed with.

"It's a story about beating the odds" she smirked slightly "I should know, I was the one who wrote it after all."

…

She felt the chatter of voices hit her ears like a steamed pot, it deafened her, her mouth tasted like sawdust and the drip drip drip next to her, irritated and hit her head like a thousand sores.

But then came a song, a rhythm of a voice that had soothed her ears to many times before, that had whispered things to her that even she would blush at. It called out to her, pleaded her name and guided her. Clawing through the white and blinking in pain she found her first sight on those full lips, a stolen kiss marked for her own.

"Caroline?" she heard him sing, a tremor of hope in his voice.

"K…Kla...us?" she tried to fight through the dryness of her mouth, the pressure on her chest. Lifting her eyes to meet his beautiful orbs that she loved to marvel at.

"Caroline" she heard the relief is voice "Oh my Caroline"

She smiled when he sat beside her, grasping her hand and kissing each finger with all his love. He had tears in his eyes that she wanted to kiss away, hide him between her bosom as she had so many times during the moonlit nights.

Klaus on the other hand who couldn't believe what his eyes were showing him, saw that she was struggling to talk. He grasped the water by her bed, taking her chin in support so she could let the ice cold liquid run sublimely down her throat.

"You're really here" he gazed at her in wonder, letting his fingers run through her soft hair.

"Of course" she let out a strained laugh as he put the cup back on the bedside "I'm immortal remember, you're not getting rid of me that easily."

He followed her with a breathy chuckle of his own "Never my muse" his voice broke as he spoke "you're my haven, always."

"As you are mine" she blew softly, entwining his hand to her heart.

"I'll go find the doctor" he spoke hurriedly, his eyes going wide after a few moments, she saw the worriment on his face and sighed.

"Wait" she called out as he reached the door, making him turn and point his dimples at her in question.

"How do you feel about painting me in Berlin?"

...

* * *

"_**The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history."  
― Oscar Wilde, **__**The Picture of Dorian Gray**_

And so the dear grandfather continued to tick, Paris did not burn but the two lovers left a fire in their wake, in sweeps of nations, they would seek. They didn't have to look for a new home, they were each other's, each possessed in their own way, each deliciously marred by one another so said young and searching for the world.

They left as soon as she was able too, left the pain and haunted memories behind them, forever chasing them.

Now if you ask her it wasn't a coincidence Tyler washed up on the Riviera one morning, bruised, bloody and cold to the touch. They had silenced speech of the event, leaving Klaus's anger and her secrets in that now empty apartment.

The world was never black and white, but she didn't want to live in grey either. So they didn't. They lived in mesmerizing and breathtaking color, vibrant on his pallet and wrote their own story. Together.

Klaus painted his muse, in Berlin, in Rome, above the chapel of St Peter, his woman in white fur and Russian cigars stained by her kiss of death. A band of inscribed gold, flawless to the touch sat between those nimble fingers, his own spotted with flecks of pastel.

They tackled the adventures they dreamed of, explored the fruits of the universe and danced under the big dipper. Gorged on exotic fruits and sailed on a valley of wonder.

And they didn't do it alone neither, oh no. The product of the love they shared soon became three and three became four, and somewhere along the line four became six. One beautiful girl, two twin boys and another baby named after Klaus himself, their love, their legacy lived on.

At some point they settled down, yielding to the years that caught up to them and the want to provide the best for their family. It wasn't an easy transaction, but age was just a number, as long as they could sneak into his studio within the night and marvel at the portrait they had hidden away from their children, they could see, she was still immortalized, eternally he an artiste, the moment was there forever.

She felt the time consume her in her new home, breathed in obscurity and sat in an office filled with his paintings. She took the key to her mind that had been filled with every touch, every experience, every secret and she wrote it all down. Ran her hands over the typewriter Klaus had bought her for a birthday, marvelous and unused until now. She placed the snow white page in its designated spot as her husband rubbed her shoulders, and thus began their tale…

**_For the man who became my own muse, _**

_**CHAPTER ONE:**_

_**He had met her in Paris. It was 1948 and he a failing artist stumbled into a small café on the Ch**_**a**_**mps-Élysées in desperate need of a hot beverage that would soothe the pounding in his head from a night spent buried in a bottle of scotch, drowning his lack of inspiration..."**_

-THE END-


	4. Pomegranates in the Spring

**A/N: For Klaroline fanfic week, I put this on tumblr for day two which was Dark Klaroline. It is based around the myth of Hades and Persephone, and pretty much my first shot at writing dark. P.S. Thank you for the amazing reviews left on previous chapters, and for following and/or favoriting these drabbles/oneshots. You guys are awesome! If you want to find out more abour klaroline fanfic week you can do so on tumblr :) **

**Warning: Slightly dark themes ahead**

* * *

"_**I am a demanding creature. I am selfish and cruel and extremely unreasonable. But I am your servant. When you starve I will feed you; when you are sick I will tend you. I crawl at your feet; for before your love, your kisses, I am debased. For you alone I will be weak.**__**" - **_**Catherynne M. Valente, **_**Deathless**_

Doth taste for a sight, a sight of beauty, of mirth and hunger.

His first taste came with a cruel test, a test of patience and secluded desire. Upon the sight of fields, and air fresh, he spat venom of death, and longed for his underworld.

How he hated the odor of life. So much of it above his kingdom, neither Olympus nor what lay below, the center of an apple rotted to its core. The souls of mortals, a banshee in the mist. He found his pleasure when they bargained and pleaded for another year, only to be sucked into the eternal realm, his cruel laughter following them to what would be their fate. His servants.

Yet here he stood in this realm of life and living, the bolts of Saturn scorching his skin through dark robes that did not belong here. Burning he who did not belong here but in penance.

No other would he do this for,

No other but her.

His promised Queen, his eternal mate stolen to the equator in which he lived.

Now she was so full of light, of life and beauty. Her harvest to the fields, bringing the dead another year, and the spring a circle of lavender and white lilies.

The shrieking fates whose skin hung limp from their bones and played with thread had set their trickster spirits upon him without delicacy.

His brother did give him a choice. He could have walked away…If that's what he truly wanted. But alas she was his, belonged to him in matrimony and possession. He would take her, spoil white lilies with virgin's blood and see her beg for the consumption of darkness.

But for today he watched, he tasted…

The way she twirled in the lake, the sip of cool blue as she danced with nymphs and sang to her flowers. He slurped the scent of her skin, glowing and moist did he all but dried the stream clean at the sight of her soaked chiton, white as her lilies and clinging to a curved shape he'd swore Pygmalion had carved himself. Her nipples hard from the cold, he would suckle from marked breast and the bare view of a bottom he would take her as but a wolf in heat.

For a deity though hardly holy, he could curse the snakes hair for why such power could be succumbed by the baser thoughts of men. His lust and desires, taking over as starved animal.

And with the trail of bumps that ran down his goddess's arm, the palm light that allowed a blood rose to bloom he decided that watching another day would not be enough, would not satisfy those unyielding urges inside.

He did not want to taste anymore. He wanted to devour.

...

The crack of the earth was all it took. The whip of fire before the goddess in white was carried under the soil and into the depths of a dark sphere, his arms tight around her hips as his less than alive black mare brought them to his kingdom. How she screamed and writhed under his hands, he could only imagine the vibrancy of their marital bed.

When they came to a halt and she looked at her kidnapper, he saw the fear drown her orbs, although her green spotted curiosity. Alas she gazed upon the petals in her hand and watched them die, her last conscious memory before the underworld soaked up more black in the wisp of her master.

He caught her in his arms; the thin material bunched in his hands; soared her into his chamber and laid her on red silk. Ran his hand up long legs, thumbs caressing the specs of dirt from a kneeled position in green clover, between the hones of her breast, he pondered whether he should just take her without struggle.

No, he'd rather see her eyes, hear the moans and pleads she'd make to know all he would do to her, to whimper the name of who she belonged too.

Yet he did leave a certain indent of ownership upon her. She woke placing feet on marble floor and winced with the ice, moving towards a distorted reflection in an oval vanity. That was when she saw it.

A small mark above her chest, the marred purple of a swelling bite, he'd sucked with tinged lips until he was happy with the result, leaving her to rest in the strings of his caged stage, for the rust of the nails could cut deeper tomorrow, be pulled to control the golden flower that spoke of home in her sleep.

…

"_Why am I here?"_

He had sighed with annoyance as the questions began, as she fluttered nervously around his throne room like a hatched bird.

Didn't she know all born things died here?

"_Haven't you heard love?" _

_He smirked deadly, _

"_You are mine."_

She didn't take well to the news. Cussed him and yanked at the tapestry.

_Queen _she had scoffed at the word.

"_I am not a Queen. I am a Goddess of spring. I do not belong in such darkness, with such darkness."_

He grew impatient at the disgust in her voice, her fire sparked lust but her words caused anger and wrath. Would she speak in such a way, he'd punish her in the most glorious electives she wouldn't know if she was in pain or pleasure.

He grabbed her by the face, bringing her sweet lips so close to his blood stained ones. Circled his tongue around the juices, he swallowed with desire and craved more in her involuntary shiver. His tone was soft but his words harsh and suffocating, she'd struggled against him-

"_And now you are mine. __Anything else is irrelevant. You will learn this and speak of such things never again."_

…

She felt herself grow colder, harder as time passed in this realm. The damp and lack of light made her ill, she would wretch with poison and refuse to eat the marvelous fruits prepared for her much to his displeasure.

You may call her foolish as he did but there was no source of nourishment down here. How did the fruit grow? She would not trust for the possibility of losing herself further.

Though she felt the battle slipping. Each night she'd be tempted with dreams that he dominated. Dreams of his body on top of hers, inside her; the arch of his bite, and the hurtful whimper of a bruising grip. She knew he was making her exhausted on purpose; he wanted her to give in of her own accord. It would be sweeter that way.

She hated the way she succumbed to these dreams, yelled in frustration for how she starved herself and dug her fingernails bloody into the walls, trying to escape. Such he would enter her room each evening, to kiss and heal every digit, salt the wound with his squeeze for punishment then tend the sting with his tongue in care.

She should loathe him, pray to her mother see her saved and he blasted by her father's bolt. But when he strode into the chambers that evening and gave her music she missed from above, a simple gesture, watching his smile carefully as she danced to the shadowed melody around him. She knew it could not be.

Removed her chinton as she did every night bare for he did not present her with nightclothes other than the satin quilts hiding her body from his eyes. She could not help herself from caressing the hones of his cheeks, the air of his mouth, for how could the ruler of the dead breathe? And finally after what seemed like decades place a gentle kiss upon those full lips.

Tender turned rough in an instant, he did not give her time to change her mind before his tongue was plunging in her mouth and he was ripping away the quilts, laying her down on their bed before taking his mate and the last piece of her innocence. Removing every second thought with the heavy sounds of slapping skin and replacing it with desire and loss of inhibition as she squirmed and whimpered under his godly hands.

The night an eternal eclipse, thus morning could not rise, the stained bed kept its servants in hunger for the wetness of divine skin.

…

Some days he noticed she would laugh, some days she would scream at him. But regardless of her mood he knew she grew sicker. Her skin paling, her hair brittle, the depression from a motherly call too her garden. He was determined too not see her fade, loved her in his own way, she his and now a part of him. He would never let her go.

Call him selfish; define him as unforgiving, for he could not allow her leave without ensuring she would find her way back into his world. Yes he loved her, but trust did not come with love, two of the same never went hand in broken palm.

This is why as he told her he would allow passage back to her world and she overcome with excitement stripped him bare, guiding him inside her he took the juices of the pomegranate and bit, sealing her fate with his kiss of fine nectar. Flowing into her mouth, his tongue pushing further.

She moaned and savored the taste, unbeknownst to the secret that only a sin could ever be so ultimately satisfying, mouthwatering, and so delicious. She flipped the ruler of her soul over in heat and rid him with all the will of an amazon steady upon their marvelous beasts.

He allowed her the control, losing himself in bliss as an echo of the fates whispered tales of the spring goddess's destiny in light of his decision. The deceitful path of his kingdom.

…

She cried when she found out. Wept to the willows that had not always been servants of the realm. Guided the little light she had left, let it run out of her palm like sharp sand. He spoke of visitation provided it was safe, but only if and when she agreed to finally become his Queen. Her broken heart, her loneliness a mere plot to get what he so desperately seeked without sweat. He told her once he always got what he wanted.

She cursed him so for it, despised herself for loving such a thing, all the while knowing this was the way he showed his love back to her, the only way he could. It saddened her…and while she'd like to say that she remained strong in her will, leaving him to stew in his own game. The weak reality would make it nothing more than a delusional lie.

She would not put herself through the torture of losing him now, for the torture she felt when with him were dare say it the less of two such evils. She would not do that to him and lose her temptation, her love. She needed him almost as much as he needed her. Perhaps it wasn't healthy but nothing in the underworld was. All but a sick pestilence.

So alas they came to an agreement. She would spend the spring in her world to attend to her responsibilities as he would do his without distraction. But when the winter she was his, completely. Surrendering herself to darkness around her and giving in to every whim and desire to be by his side. Sealed with his blood in her veins, the snake of possession invading her insides, his name written in the vessels, carved in whisper of eternal life.

She had one final condition though. His cruel mistress, his lover and now his companion in eternity-

"_I will not rule as your Queen"_

_She stood high with all the grace and confidence of a leader,_

"_I will rule as your Goddess and nothing less._

_You will learn,_

_Master of my heart, abductor of my soul."_

….

"_**In his own country, Death can be kind." **__** - **_**Catherynne M. Valente, **_**Deathless**_


End file.
